


Susan of Narnia, Susan of......

by Hastings1066



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cold War, Depression, F/M, Post-World War II, Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2006496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hastings1066/pseuds/Hastings1066
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan Pevensie was kicked out of heaven and orphaned at twenty-one. In the absence of Narnia and her siblings, Susan forges her own heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Type Susan Pevensie's name into any search engine, and thousands of essays, head-cannons, and analysis, will pop up explaining the motivation and allegory behind C.S. Lewis's decision to leave one of the Pevensie Children behind while the rest went to Narnia, the allegorical heaven.
> 
> JK Rowling has made her thoughts known about the subject, now known as "The Problem of Susan," thanks to Neil Gaiman. Others have pointed out the allegorical nature of the stories and said Susan was a lesson in remembering to not place too much value in the material.
> 
> My own opinions are influenced by a little bit of everything, but the opinion that shaped my own, and this story, was that of Lewis himself.
> 
> When a young fan wrote to him after he published the "Last Battle," asking if there was any hope for Susan, he responded. He told the girl who that Susan was not banned permanently, but her journey to Narnia was going to take awhile. 
> 
> He wrote this to a young fan who asked after Susan. 
> 
> “I have no hope of Susan’s ever getting into Aslan’s country” — that is, Heaven — “but because I have a feeling that the story of her journey would be longer and more like a grown-up novel than I wanted to write. but because I have a feeling that the story of her journey would be longer and more like a grown-up novel than I wanted to write.”
> 
>  
> 
> If the letter had ended like that, I would thrown out my copies of his books. Thankfully it doesn't.
> 
> Lewis admitted he might be wrong and issued this invitation; "“But I may be mistaken. Why not try it yourself?”
> 
> So here I am, taking inspirations from all the meta on tumblr and Wartime London to make this story. 
> 
> Well, half of my inspiration comes from Narnia, the other half comes from a certain SSR agent.
> 
>  
> 
> "Captain America: The First Avenger," had so much potential but not enough time to explore all it's characters in a realistic manner. 
> 
> Now, with Marvel's Agent Carter is being written and will soon begin filming, I find myself thinking about the world after WW2.  
> Women who had been independent for years, now forced back into the home. And soldier of color, like Gabe Jones and Jim Morita, would have been erased completely from the history books.
> 
> I think about this history and then I come over to fanfic sites. 
> 
> Instead of taking advantage of the fact that they can expand Howling Commandos by shoeing how an international and multi-ethnic team would work and function in the 1940's, I see writers either make them background characters or forget them completely. 
> 
> Hopefully, I won't do that here.

The smell of fresh grass and the ocean filled her senses, which was odd because Susan was nowhere near the ocean. She was in.....she was in.....Where was she? Susan opened her eyes and adjusted to the bright sunlight. Overhead, birds sang and flitted from branch to branch.

Susan knew this place, despite not having been here for several years. Despite what Jill and her siblings said behind her back, Susan would always remember Narnia, Only, this wasn't just Narnia. Susan sat up and looked around, and wondered what was different. This was Narnia, she knew it. But it was, more. The air was clearer, the trees and water seemed to shine, and the animals strolled by as if they did not know that a hunter was in their midst.

Susan blinked. Hunter? Since when had she thought of herself as that? In the back of her mind, something began to tingle, a warning. Something was not right. Susan swallowed and her hand went to her right side. There was nothing there. Surprised, Susan looked down and wondered what was missing.

“Sue?”

Susan froze, and after several moments of controlled breathing, turned around.

Lucy stood across the stream, looking more vibrant and alive than she ever had in Susan's memory. Susan's heart pounded as she studied Lucy, trying to sniff out some flaw that would unveil this as an enemy deception. (Where were these thoughts coming from?)

But no, it was her sister, who dressed as she had in their days as Queens of Narnia. Her long brown hair fell past her waist, and in on hand she held a basket of berries and flowers. Her feet were bare and her skin was pale and clear. Susan took several deep breaths and nodded. “Lucy, is that you? Or am I dreaming?”

Lucy dropped her basket and ran across the stream. Susan met her half-way, almost knocking her sister into the water with the force of her embrace.  
“You came back,” Lucy whispered, and something wet slid into Susan's braid. “The others didn't think you would, especially Jill and Ed. But I knew they were wrong.”

Susan chuckled and broke the embrace to look at Lucy and was surprised to find that tears were streaming down her face as well. That had not happened in a very long time.

“I'm back, Lu. But I can't remember how I got here.” Susan admitted and Lucy laughed, then linked her arm through Susan's.

“There will be plenty of time for that later,” Lucy said, and began leading her down a well trod path. “First, we must see the others.” Susan nodded and smiled and ate a handful berries offered to her by Lucy. And while they walked, the two sisters talked. Or rather, Lucy talked and Susan listened. It was hard to offer up any useful conversation when her memory was blurred and all she remembered was trying to identify the bodies of her family at the wreck.

Susan remembered that just as the approached a large, shaded, clearing. She froze, unable to walk on as the that day returned to her. The smell of charred flesh and wood, the weeping families, and the, oh god the bodies.

“Susan, Susan what's wrong?” Lucy cried out, snapping Susan out of her reverie. “You died.” she said simply and Lucy looked down.

“Yes, at the train station.” she said soberly, then quickly brightened up as she turned and waved at a familiar figure.

Peter was galloping towards them atop a beautiful flea-bitten gray, smiling and waving. Susan waved and looked behind him to see Edmund and the rest beneath a tall oak, having a picnic.

Peter stopped just before her and dismounted. Awe and wonder were etched across his face, a far cry from the bloody ruin at the train station.

Wait, if they were dead then that meant....Susan bit her lip. Well that explained quite a bit.

Except, that explanation felt, wrong. Suddenly, her stomach twisted and began to ache. Susan ignored as Peter picked her up and swung her around, like he did when they were young, like father had before the War.

“You remembered!” Peter exclaimed in delight. “You're here, Aslan said you would return, and you have. I've missed you Susan, I can't,” he broke off and shook his head.

Susan nodded and hugged him back. “Yes, I’m here.” she whispered. “Though I'm not sure how.”  
Peter laughed and dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “That doesn't matter, not anymore” he said and Susan's heart sank. But it did matter. She tried to to tell him and Lucy so, but they began dragging her towards Edmund and the rest.

 Susan scowled, but allowed them to do so, all the while warning bells sounding off in her head.

“Susan, we'll get you a new dress,” Lucy promised. “Just like you used to wear, instead of whatever it is you're wearing now. Heavens, you have changed if you're going about like that.”

Susan stopped and took her hand back, looking down at herself. Indeed, she was wearing something akin to what pilots wore in the war. A white dress shirt, a worn, dark brown leather pilot's jacket, sturdy trousers and scuffed, knee-high boots.

The uniform of a pilot and soldier.

Susan suddenly remembered a cold, black forest, in the East. No, it was road in the middle of a forest. She had had almost reached safety, she and...Susan had been with someone. Someone who had trusted her and depended don her for safety. But then

“Susan!” someone shouted and Susan saw Ed, grinning at her.

He moved to embrace her, but Susan pulled away. “Stop!” she shouted and her siblings looked at her in alarm

“She's starting to remember,” Lucy said quietly and wrapped her arm around Susan's waist. “Its all right,” she said softly, “We've all gone through it.”  
Susan shook her head and the pain in her stomach grew worse, like fire. “No, someone needs me;” she whispered and nearly collapsed as a torrent of memories assaulted her.

Red lipstick, the train station, her neighbors, a shooting range, and red in the snow. Susan remembered that most of all, the red snow. Blood snow, _her_ blood.

“Forget about all that,” Edmund said softly. “you can stop now, you're here and you need never leave.

Susan stared at him and her stomach burned even more fiercely. But this time, it wasn't from pain, but anger.

_“Never need leave?”_ she snarled and backed away from him, from them all. “I remember not wanting to leave the first time, or the second time.” she shouted. That's right, she learned that it was alright to be angry and to shout sometimes. Peggy had taught her that. “But Aslan said I was too old and turned me out. So I made myself a life even when you did not and...” Peter seized her arm and stared at his sister intently.

“Don't Sue, don't. We only just got you back.” he said and Susan twisted away.

“No, you haven't not yet.” Susan said and tried to remember.

West Germany (When had Germany become divided?), the woods and a soldier who was more a ghost than actual being. Her stomach burned even more fiercely and Susan became aware of the blood falling down her side, it was all starting to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing against well written Stucky, but too often I find the story revolves around just them, Peggy and the rest of the Commandos should get their due and if you know any stories that do this, please send them my way. I liked to be proven wrong about this sort of thing.


	2. 1949, Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan pretends everything is fine (She's perfected that over the years) until she realizes that it really isn't.

It had been a month since the train wreck, and if anyone asked, Susan Pevensie was just fine.

 

Well, she was sad of course, her entire family had  _just died_ , but many people were like her these days, thanks to the War. But unlike so many, Susan had a job, a home, and a small inheritance left to her by her parents that would help in case of rainy days. 

 

She was fine, perfectly fine.

 

Except, Susan wasn't.

 

 

The tears had started quietly as Susan walked home from the hospital, she wasn't sure why they had started in the first place, they just had. Susan had not cried since the War, since the day she learned that her father had been become a prisoner of war. That day, Peter had raged, Edmund had gone silent, and Lucy had wept bitter tears for hours. Only Susan, after shedding a few quiet tears in private, had remained  calm and collected. She had to, no one else was.

 

But as she unlocked the front door of her house (her parent's home), there was nothing but dark shadows and silence. And the tears continued to fall, dripping down her face, smearing her make-up and splashing against the ground. Sometimes, Susan would look up from her vanity mirror and see Edmund looking at her in judgement. Lucy and Peter too, when she came down the stairs in the morning and after kissing her parents good-bye, left for the hospital.

They would argue about that, quite a bit at the end. Edmund and Peter would call her vain, and Lucy would ask why it was all she cared about. They all had the worst timing, for they usually chose to attack right after her shift, and Susan had lost all patience for their questions the first time. But Lucy, to be honest, was the worst.

"Where have you been?" she had demanded, after Susan had come home late from a particularly long shift and drinks with friends. Susan remembered as soon as she walked in that she had had a lunch date planned with Polly, Jill, and Lucy to talk about Narnia.

But after keeping watch over a young soldier who was insane with grief for hours, Susan had needed a break.

 

"Oh Lucy, grow up. Narnia is gone from our grasp, may as well have been a children's game for all the good it does us here and now."

Susan would never forget the look of betrayal on Lucy's face. She told herself she didn't care.They had all been whispering behind her back, and that confrontation brought that all to her face. Whispers that she had forgotten.

Despite the tears running down her face and the regret that it had happened, Susan scowled. Lucy and the rest accused  _her_ of forgetting Narnia, but Susan couldn't help but wonder if the opposite was true. They remembered Narnia, sure, but they all seemed to only remember the adventure, not the fifteen years spent growing up and ruling a kingdom. Susan remembered solving feuds with words, and if need be, steel. Susan remembered the half written drafts of new laws left waiting on her desk, the tax systems and the various treaties made and enforced over the years.

 

As she walked through the house, memories flooding her mind, Susan did not bother to turn on the lights. She turned and went into the kitchen, hoping a cup of tea would calm her down. It was her routine, after work, and the one thing that had stayed normal since the Accident. 

Only before, before one or both of her parents would come down, no matter the time of day or night, and sit with her. Just sit and talk, about their days, about the weather, whatever came to mind. The kitchen now felt dark and oppressive, and Susan felt like she was choking. 

She threw the kettle at the wall and sank down to the floor. The tears no longer fell silently, they came out as ugly, harsh sobs that wracked her whole body. 

Her mind was a maelstrom of emotions. 

 Anger, regret, love and more anger flowed through her all at once. 

Anger at Peter and Edmund, never shutting up about Narnia, judging her for moving on and making what she could of the life in front of her. 

Regret for the last words she had spoken to Lucy had been in anger.

Love for them all, despite everything that had happened. 

 

And finally, anger, white hot rage rage, all for herself. 

 

Susan sobbed and it filled the house, the silence and the echoes taunting her, showing her exactly what was gone. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunlight filtered in through the kitchen window the next morning, and as she opened her eyes and sat up, Susan remembered the events of the past night. She could still feel the dried tracks of tears and make-up running down her face. Susan absentmindedly rubbed at them, but it was no use. She inhaled deeply and leaned back against the cupboards beneath the sink. The ground felt cold and her legs were numb from a nights spent on the floor.

 

Her tears were spent, that was for sure. And Susan felt too empty to cry anymore and briefly, she wondered if that was good or bad. Probably good, in the long run, tears weren't really of use. Not to her at least. 

 

Susan continued to stare at the wall and took several, deep, breaths.

 

Everyone was gone. Everyone was gone, and she could not follow them, she told herself. Susan repeated it to herself out loud, as if it were a prayer, not the cold, cruel truth it actually was. It didn't help and Susan brought her knees to her chest. The emptiness inside threatened to consume her and Susan released a short, angry, breath. 

Everyone was dead and she would never be able to say 'Sorry", 

 

"Is this punishment, Aslan?" she asked aloud. No answer. "Yes, I called you and Narnia a game when I was around my parents and friends while Lucy would babble on about it but if I started too....." she screamed the last part and slammed her fist into the cupboard. No one to tell her to calm down now, no one to say it wasn't proper or she was just being hysterical. Susan felt oddly smug about that and struck the cupboard again, and again. The wood cracked under the weight of her fist and Susan smiled savagely.

 

 Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and the smile dropped from her face. 

 

She stood and turned on the sink, splashing water on her face and drying off as fast as possible. The knock came again and Susan cleared her throat. 

"One moment," she shouted and walked over to the door with as much decorum and grace as she could muster. It wouldn't do to have the neighbors talking if it was one of them at the door. 

 

But it wasn't. Susan opened the front door and saw a young messenger boy looking back. "Telegram, ma'am," he said awkwardly as he took in her appearance. Susan cleared her throat and held out her hand. "Thank you," she said and accepted the telegram. 

The boy looked awkwardly at her before bidding her farewell. Susan shut the door and set the message down on the hallway table without bothering to see who it was from, and hurried upstairs to the bathroom. Judging from the look on the face of the messenger boy, she must have looked dreadful and if the neighbors had seen....They were well meaning, but Susan could not stand the idea of anyone else looking at her like that. Or their prying. 

 

The face staring back at her in the mirror was a mess, no wonder the messenger looked so startled. Mascara clumped up her eyelashes, while eyeliner, powder, and lipstick been streaked across her face. The quick rinse in the kitchen sink had done nothing to help. Susan sighed and drew herself up a bath. She needed to feel clean, and then she would face whatever else came after. There was a swirling list of things and responsibilities she was shirking just staying inside the house, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what they were. 

 

Oh well, right now, Susan would deal with everything else later. The hospital would hopefully understand, the only time she had missed work was after the accident. 

 

Susan bathed and and afterwards, changed into a set of soft pajamas, before heading downstairs.  The telegram stared at her from the table as she came down the stairs and she picked it up. 

 

Her blood roared in her ears as she read the short message. 

 

COME TO HOME PROFESSOR D. KIRKE STOP. MUST DISCUSS ESTATE STOP.

 

 

 


	3. 1949: Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last filler chapter I promise before I start get the ball rolling on the Susan and Peggy interactions. Enjoy and feel free to leave criticism in the comments.

When Susan stepped off the train at the village near Professor Kirke's house, she was surprised by how vibrant the colors seemed to be. It was the last days of autumn, and the rest of the country had turned dark grey and drab, but here, here clung the last bits of warmth and color.

It had been like that the first time she stepped off the train as well. Susan grabbed her luggage and stepped off the train and onto the platform, followed by two other passengers, a sharply dressed woman with vivid red lipstick and an older man in a casual military uniform. Two cars were already waiting, one for the couple and one for Susan.

Standing by the the passenger door of her car, was Mr. J. Smythe, The Professor's solicitor. He smiled at her and graciously opened the door for her. Susan smiled back and held out her hand.

 

"Miss Pevensie, thank you for coming out on such short notice. Please, let the chauffeur take your bag." Susan handed over her small suitcase to man dressed in black and slid into the car. 

 

"Thank you, sir." Susan said and flattened out her skirt. "I will admit I was rather shocked at your telegram. Will you please tell me what it is about?" 

Mr. Smythe cleared his throat and reached for a briefcase. "Ah yes, I thought we could wait until we got to the house." Susan raised a brow. "Is everything alright there? I know that the Professor would let visitors come see the house and his collection of antiques before the War, but that hadn't happened since then." 

Mr. Smythe shook his head vigorously. "No, no, nothing of the sort. The house and the collection is fine. It is more the management that is the problem." 

Susan pursed her lips, but said nothing more of the subject.  They made small talk for the rest of the car ride, which thankfully, wasn't very long. 

 

 

 

 

 

When Susan saw the house come into view on the horizon, her heart skipped several beats, and suddenly, for the briefest of moments, she was a small child again, trying hide her own fears for the sake of Lucy, whose hand Susan could feel clutching her's as if she were there and not in the ground. Before she could snap out of it, the smell of mothballs and wood filled her senses. Susan gagged slightly and coughed into her hankie, trying to hide the tears welling up in her eyes.

 

Mr. Smythe looked at her, worried. 

 

"Are you alright?" he asked kindly, and Susan nodded. "Being back here, I just have a lot of memories." she said.

Mr. Smythe nodded in understanding. "I understand, Digory was a good friend to me, and I know how he loved you and your siblings." 

Susan couldn't help but snort at that. "I'm sure he loved my siblings, at the end of it all." she said brusquely and walked up the steps to the house.

Thee doors were locked and Susan waited patiently while Mr. Smythe unlocked them and invited her and the two gentlemen inside. "Let's go to the dining room," Smythe said and led the way. 

Susan eyed the the two men beside her, and wondered who they were and what they were doing here. One in particular, made her uneasy. He was an average looking man, neither tall nor short, handsome or ugly, quite forgettable really. But Susan, for whatever reason, felt uneasy around him. Hopefully, it just the house making her feel this way.

Mr. Smythe sat down at the head of the table and began setting down several paper packets onto the table. Susan sat to his right and looked over what he had. 

"Right," Mr. Smythe began, "Since we are all here, let us begin."

 

 

* * *

 

 

  ** _Peggy_**  

 

 

Peggy Carter shut the door to her room at the inn and after kicking off her shoes into the corner, walked over to the windows and shut the curtains. The view was beautiful, she could see the whole the village from here, and the anyone could see her as well. She inhaled deeply, and for a moment, all Peggy wanted to do was lie down and rest. Instead, she lifted her suitcase onto the bed and opened. To the untrained eye everything in it appeared normal, but Peggy lifted up her clothes and toiletries and popped open the secret compartment on the bottom of the case. 

If you asked anyone on the street what they thought a spy would be carrying around in a secret compartment, the last thing they would guess would be paperwork, and that was how Peggy liked it. She carefully sorted through each and every file, making sure each was in it's place. While it was unlikely that anyone had managed to go through it, it never hurt to check.

 

After counting the files and checking the seals that held them closed, Peggy nodded and pulled one out and placed it on the small desk across from the bed.  She sat down and broke the seal. It was a thin file, but Peggy hoped to change that soon enough. She read through the file again, and burned with embarrassment. How could a spy have gotten so much information about troop movements in West Germany? Lord Grantham was a careful, shrewd man, had been since first World War. He had vetted each of his servants carefully and made care to never mention his work outside of his offices. 

 

Peggy looked over the file again, even thought there wasn't anything in there that she didn't already know. She paused on the telegram that had led her and Falstaff to this little village and wondered what if they were chasing ghosts. Peggy wondered if they were, if the spy, who had been so careful until now, didn't intentionally let this slip, just to throw them off his tracks. She hoped it wasn't true, SHIELD (it was still strange to refer to the SSR by it's new name) had spent hours combing over the list of places that had been looking for patterns and finding none until by some chance half of a message was intercepted from East Germany, telling an English spy to go to a village hundred miles from Finchley.   She flipped through the report again, then carefully put it away back into her suitcase and sealed it. 

 

It was dinner time and Falsworth was expecting her. 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Susan stared at Mr. Smythe as if he had just grown a third head. 

 

"The Professor has left the  _entire_ estate to me?" she spluttered and let her mouth her hang open. But that couldn't be right, Peter or Lucy would have come first. 

Mr. Smythe pushed the will towards her and let Susan read it for herself. She read through it, and sure enough, there it was. 

 

_I, Diggory Kirke,_

_Hereby  bequeath my estate and all that it entails to Susan M. Pevensie at the time of my death._

There was several pages detailing the contents of the estate and Susan skipped them (for now) until she got to the end and saw the Professor's familiar signature. 

Susan looked back up at Mr. Smythe and back down at the will again, before passing it back. 

He knew, that bastard _knew_ and yet he invited everyone, her siblings, to the train station anyway. She set her face into a mask of neutrality, but inside she was seething. 

 

"Part of the will, though." Mr. Smythe continued and Susan forced her attention to him. It wouldn't do to miss out on anything he had to say, it could mean potential ruin. 

"Part of the will does list a number of antiques Professor Kirke wanted to go to museums and a few private collectors." Susan nodded and glanced at the two men sitting across from her. 

"Is that what they are here for?" she asked and Mr. Williams (the one Susan felt uneasy around and didn't know why) nodded, as did his associate Mr. Higgins. (All Susan thought of him was historian.)

"Yes, Ms. Pevensie," Williams, began and cleared his throat. "My partner Mr. Higgins and I are antique dealers, museums and private collectors alike hire us to evaluate the value of a piece, as well as the authenticity."

Susan nodded and glanced back at the will, it was easier than being friendly with Williams. And Professor Kirke had not left those pieces to anyone but her, it was her choice entirely what was done with them. The thought made her slightly giddy. 

"I see," Susan said and turned to look at Mr. Smythe. 

"Sir, when am I to take ownership of this estate?" she asked and Smythe nodded and pulled out another piece of paper.

"Now, if you sign here."

Susan made no move to sign the papers. "What of the...financial situation of the estate?" she asked and Mr. Smythe looked at her in surprise.

"It is good, Professor Kirke, for all his travels, was a frugal man, there is some money in the bank that also goes to you, though not much. I do suggest selling a few pieces off, just in case of a rainy day."

Susan bit her lip and looked over the contract. 

 

"I need a night to sleep on this," Susan said and Mr. Smythe nodded.  Mr. Williams nodded hesitantly.

Before he could say anything, Mr. Williams cleared his throat. "Ms. Pevensie is right, this matter deserves careful consideration." he paused and looked Susan in the eye. "And before anything is decided, I say we all go get something to eat, we have been here a while and I am famished."  

Susan blinked and glanced at the clock, it was after five and the sky had turned dark with clouds that threatened to spill at any moment. 

"Ms. Pevensie, I would be delighted if you joined Mr. Higgins and I for dinner, I promise we would not talk business." he swore and Mr. Higgins nodded. He was an older man, had probably served in the first great war, and spoke like an historian. 

"Yes, I knew Digory quite well, we traveled together when we were younger, if you like I could regale you with some of our adventures, quite a few involve some of the artifacts around the house." he offered kindly, and Susan smirked in her mind. He underestimated her, and Susan did not mind. It was his loss.

Susan smiled and accepted the offer. It had been a long time since she had played this game, tonight she dust off her court smile and get Williams and Gibbons to tell her as much as she could get them too about every piece in the house. Then she would make her decision.

 

 

It was odd to bethinking this way again. She had tried to put the court politics behind, when she and the others left Narnia. But it had grated for years, being treated like a child after ruling over a kingdom for years, being pushed into a corner and not even considered when her brothers were in the room after she had grown into womanhood again.

Susan glanced around the dining room, surrounded by the ghosts of old memories.

"I would love to join you for dinner, though there is something I must do here first." she told the two men and they nodded and promised to meet her at the inn restaurant at seven. 

They left and Susan was left alone with Mr. Smythe. They looked at each other and both took a deep breath. "It has been a long day, hasn't it?" Mr. Smythe said and Susan nodded.

"I can probably guess and what it is you want to do before you leave," he began and Susan raised a brow. "And what do you think that is?" she asked politely. 

Mr. Smythe smiled and closed his briefcase. "This house was a safe haven for you and brothers and sister, when your own home was a danger. I can imagine that it holds many memories here for you, as it does me. I'll wait in the car while you look around, god knows I have, since the accident." His eyes seemed to grow misty for a moment, before Mr. Smythe cleared his throat and walked away. 

It occurred to Susan that Mr. Smythe had lost a good friend that day. 

"Thank you sir." she called after him, for he had guessed correctly in her intentions. He paused in front of the door and smiled. "Take your time," was all he said, before going outside and leaving Susan alone. 

 

The wind blew ominously against the windows, but Susan paid no mind. She walked up the stairs and turned down the halls. 

Her siblings had all stayed out her during the holidays when they could and each still used the rooms they had chosen when they had arrived that first time in nineteen-forty. Susan had stayed out here as well, though considerably less when she graduated and began working at the hospital. 

She wandered into each of their rooms and carefully looked through their things. Her mind wondered back to the will and Susan's nostrils flared. Professor Kirke had known something was going to happen, why else would he list her as his only heir? Well, what did that matter now? He was dead.

Her heart clenched painfully inside her chest and Susan turned away from Peter's room and went into Lucy's. 

It was the same as her room at home, if a little more sparse. The bed had been made and the bottom left corner had been left un-tucked, as had been Lucy's habit. The nightstand by the bed had glass on it and beside that was several books. 

Susan stepped into the room and sat don on the bed, thinking of all those times she had helped Lucy with her homework, or helped her with her hair and make-up before she went on her first date. 

Susan smiled at the memory and leaned back. 

 

Lucy had been so nervous when a boy from the village that she had been friends with for ages asked her to dinner and she accepted. She had come to Susan in a panic, begging Susan for help. 

it had been one of her last visits to the house before she started work, and Susan had been glad to help if it meant spending time with Lucy. 

 

Susan inhaled and looked around the room. It was all Lucy, that was for sure. Susan stood, figuring that is she signed the papers, she would have plenty of time to spend time here, and besides, she had kept Mr. Smythe waiting long enough. 

 

She was about to leave when something in the open closet caught her eye. She walked over to the closet and opened the door fully. A long brown box fell out and Susan's breath caught in her chest.

 

The box had piece of paper taped to it marked "Susan, always a Queen of Narnia," in Lucy's elegant script. Susan knelt and quickly opened it.

 

 

Inside, along with a quiver and over a dozen white fletched arrows, was an English Longbow. 


	4. 1949: Spy Games: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan and Peggy listen and plan.

Peggy stepped out of the shower and quickly dried herself off. While the water pressure had been weak, the water had been hot, and after years of simply dumping a bucket of cold water on her head and calling it good in the War, it was good enough. Peggy began to ready herself for dinner and as she did so, began to make a mental list of what she needed to do after her mission here was done. The London SHIELD office needed a number of supplies, such as desks and the like; the agents were woefully understaffed as many of the potential secretarial was still undergoing the background check and security clearance, and to top it all off, they ha failed to get as many lines of communications as Peggy had hoped for in East Germany. 

She applied a light layer of make-up and after securing anything that might contain sensitive information, Peggy went down to dinner.

 

 

As she was locking the door up, a familiar face appeared in the corner of her eye. Peggy straightened and discreetly stared at a young woman coming down the hall dressed for dinner. Peggy had seen her on the train, and even then had thought she looked familiar. Peggy racked her memory, trying to remember this young woman.

Her features were so striking, that Peggy should have remembered meeting her. She had heart shaped face framed by long raven black hair, not short as was the fashion nowadays, snow white skin, and lips the colour of berries. She would have no end of suitors, that was for sure.

To Peggy's embarrassment, the young woman caught her staring and stopped in front of her. Her eyebrows scrunched together in thought, and Peggy was struck by the intelligent, calculating gleam in her eye.

Smart and beautiful, she thought. A good combination.

"Don't I know you?" she asked and Peggy cleared her throat. "I don't know," Peggy answered honestly. "I saw you on the train coming here today, but I'm sure we've met before."

 

"There you are, Margaret."

 

Peggy turned and saw Falsworth coming down the halls towards them, looking very handsome. He came up to Peggy's side and looked the young woman next to her up and down.

"And who is this?" he asked politely and flashed a smile at the young woman. The young woman smiled. "Susan, my name is Susan Pevensie. And I believe I met Ms. Carter last month, though our encounter was brief, after the train went off the tracks at London Station."

Peggy's eyes widened. Of course, no wonder she couldn't remember. That day and the weeks following it had been chaos. It had been the first big investigation for the newly minted London based SHIELD office, and they had spent two weeks investigating alongside MI-6 until a young engineer had discovered the wreck had been caused by prior damage to the rail-line leftover from the Blitz. Everyone had released their breath when they realized it wasn't the Soviets, as some intelligent networks had been suggesting.

Peggy had interviewed hundreds of people that day, Susan included. If she recalled correctly, she had lost her entire family in that wreck.

"It is alright if you don't remember me, ma'am." Susan continued. "I barley remember what happened after the Wreck myself." She smiled sadly and tucked a stray lock of raven hair behind her ear.

Peggy shook her head sadly. "You lost most of your family, did you not?" she asked and Susan nodded. "I did," she said stiffly and Peggy began to remember details from the interview that had been forgotten in the chaos.

Susan was a nurse, not yet twenty-one, and had been onsite and helping the wounded for days afterwords. Peggy suppressed a shiver, that day had been a reminder for her and the country as whole that though the War was over, it's long shadow was something they had yet to come out from entirely. 

Falsworth cleared his throat and, "Miss Pevensie, are you going down to the dining room?"  he asked and Susan nodded. 

"Yes, I am expected at seven." Falsworth nodded and smiled and looked between the two woman. "If it is all right with Miss Carter, might I escort the two of you down?" he said and extended his arm. Susan looked towards Peggy, and Peggy smiled and linked her arm with Falsworth's. 

"It's your lucky night, Lord Falsworth." Peggy said as Susan took his other arm.

 

Falsworth and Susan merely laughed in response.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Susan had been seated with her dinner party, three scholarly looking older men, and all the polite necessities said, Peggy and Falsworth found a private corner and after discreetly checking to make sure no one was listening, began trading information.

 

"Where did you go on your walk?" Peggy asked after she ha ordered a heavy stew and some bread. Falsworth shrugged and sipped his tea. 

"Oh, here and there. Mostly I inquired around the village about trails and hunting in the forest." he answered and Peggy smiled. Good, while she had brushed up on the mission details, he had been doing reconnaissance around the village.

"Really? Learn anything interesting?" Falsworth shrugged and discreetly glanced behind him at Susan's table. She was smiling at something the youngest of the men was saying, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. As Peggy's eyes moved away from Susan, she spotted an older woman, the matron of this establishment, discreetly listening in on Susan and watched as her eyes carefully flicked over to Peggy and in particular, Falsworth. No surprise there, any member of aristocracy was bound to be a popular subject of gossip, especially in a small village like this.

Peggy sipped her tea and leaned forward. "So how did you find out about Susan?" she prompted and Falsworth smiled.

"It's all over the village, but I overheard it hear in the dining room, whilst reading the paper. Some farmers and their wives are convinced Susan is going to sell everything Professor Kirke, the man who owned the house, has."

Kirke, Peggy knew that name.

"Isn't Kirke the name of a well known historian? I swear I read an article about him before the war. He did something in the antiquity period, I think."

Falsworth nodded. "Professor Digory Kirke was a history professor of the ancient world, especially British history before the Romans, he was also known for having a large collection of historical artifacts up in the manor. People from all over would come to see it before the War."

He pause when a maid brought there food. Peggy inhaled the the rich scent and sighed, her stomach growling. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was.

"Anyways," Falsworth continued. "During the War, the good Professor volunteered to host some of the children that were evacuated. I don't have to tell you who they were."

Peggy glanced over at Susan, chatting gaily with the occupants of the table. 

"Susan and her siblings, four in all I believe." Falsworth nodded and took a bite of his bread. He chewed thoughtfully, before swallowing and continuing on with his story.

"Professor Kirke loved those children, and they loved him. After the war ended, they would come up as often as possible, and Kirke had taken the oldest boy under his tutelage in history. But, Susan, as she grew older, seemed to have had a bit of a falling out with her siblings and the Professor."

Peggy frowned. "Over what?" she asked and Falsworth shrugged. "I don't know, only that many of the villagers could hear her brothers saying awful things about her, Susan is quite vain apparently."

Peggy snorted. "I don't think so," she said and took a sip of some of the spice wine the cook had recommended. It accompanied the stew perfectly. "I think we're missing something from this story, but do go on."

Falsworth chuckled and stretched slightly. "Well, the Professor was there at the tracks, with the Pevensies, and everything has been left to Susan."

Peggy nodded and glance over at Susan. "Why do the townspeople think she's going to sell?" and Falsworth gestured to the two men sitting with their back to them. 

"Those two are from a firm that specializes in antiques, both for museums and private collectors. Given the strained nature of the siblings and the gossip going around the village, everyone is assuming the worst." Falsworth concluded, but Peggy was no longer listening.

Her mind had snagged on one small thing that he had mentioned. She bit her lip, thinking about the where the information had been leaked from, and the men who had let it leak. Rich collectors, all of them. Everything made perfect sense, Lord Grantham had amassed a fairly sizable collection of paintings over the years, and over the course of the War had come into several valuable paintings from the medieval era. He had had them authenticated and appraised, of course. 

Peggy forced her gaze down to her soup and and coughed slightly. Falsworth took the hint and cleared his throat.  Peggy glanced up at the men at the table and wondered which one was her spy. 

Oh god, she hoped her instincts was right about this.

 

* * *

_**Susan** _

 

 

Susan sat down at her table and after Agent Carter and Lord Falsworth had said their goodbyes, turned her attention to the men at her table in full. She had told them she wanted simple where they would speak of the Professor and their memories of the man, but in truth this was as much business as it was pleasure.

_Just like the good old days_ , Susan thought wryly, looking between Smythe, Williams and Higgins. Unless she was eating with her siblings, meals were always just business when she was Queen. She would make polite conversation and smile, sometimes it was genuine, other times it wasn't. Susan had a feeling that tonight would mostly be the latter.

They all made small talk, reading off the menu and wondering what would taste best and with what beverage.

 Finally, after the food had been ordered and the leaves added to a pot of hot water, did the conversation really begin. 

Higgins began it, at first reminiscing about his first meeting with the Professor, or Diggory as he called him, which was slightly disconcerting for Susan. She should have been used to it, as Polly had called the Professor that as well, and she had heard Polly call him that for years. 

 

"So there I was, waiting patiently for my history professor to finish up with another student, and just when the professor is going to finally address me, Diggory barges and begins telling the professor exactly why he deserved top marks for a paper he had written, and why our professor, who had been working at Oxford for fifteen years by this point, had been wrong to give him anything less." He paused for a sip of his wine and Susan smiled into her tea. She had never heard this story before, but Polly, the first time Susan had met her, a week after her return from Narnia, had been quick to divulge the Professor's antics as a young boy, and later, as a young man. 

"And here I am, staring at Digory with my mouth open looking a fool and about to be late for my next class, so I say, "Dear sir, if it escaped your notice, the professor has a list of appointments, and I am next, I was still a young college student, bear that in mind, and he turns and looks at me, and Digory says, "I realize that, an this is far more important than some silly list."

Susan held back an unladylike snort and chuckled. "I wish I could have known the Professor when he was younger. He was eccentric when I was a child, but from what you and Polly have to say, he was positively wild."

Higgins smiled and sighed. "Digory and I began arguing so much, that we didn't even notice the professor we were arguing over slip out for his lunch break."

Everyone at the table laughed and then the food arrived.  Susan tucked into her dish and subtly began inquiring into Mr. Smythe's and Higgins travels with the Professor.

"The Professor mentioned that the three of you went on a trip to Egypt, before the outbreak of the first Great War, I remember quite clearly seeing a photo of the three of you in the desert, the Sphinx behind you."

Williams straightened. "You've been to Egypt?" he asked Higgins, seeming genuinely interested for the first time that night. Higgins nodded and smiled fondly.

"Yes, first time I had ever left England. I was nervous and when we finally reached our destination, there are no words to describe what what I felt seeing the Nile for the first time, or the rest of the country. And the pyramids, we went down as part of the  dig, it was extraordinary."

Smythe snorted and set down his wine. "If I recall correctly, you were too scared to go own to the tombs, but once we reached the pyramids you jumped at the opportunity to get out of the sun."

Higgins snorted, "Course I was, we were going down into the tomb of a  _dead_ man, and you forget that by the time we all arrived, we were as red as tomatoes."

Smythe grudgingly nodded. "I had never experienced such heat in my life," he admitted. Williams chuckled slightly, and Susan saw a brief flash of longing in his eyes.

"Despite the heat," he asked. "Was it worth the trip?" and both Smythe and Higgins nodded vigorously. "Yes, it was worth every sunburn, bug bite, sandstorm, and crocodile attack."

William's eyes went wide. "Sandstorms, crocodile attacks? I insist you tell me the story behind that." he said and Smythe agreed. He cleared his throat and Susan leaned forward slightly, eager to catch every detail.

"Well, first of all, Susan, you have seen those slabs of stone in the east wing of the house, and the vase with hieroglyphs on it?" Susan had, she had often wondered if there was a story behind that, as the Professor, whenever he pass it, would get a sly smile on his face.

"I have seen it, I've always wondered where it came from, but the Professor never got around to telling me." Higgins nodded and leaned back in his chair, and Susan could see the wine was starting to get to him.

"Well, that vase is part of a set, one of three. Digory kept his, while Smythe and I sold ours to a private collector."

Susan smiled and filed that away. 

"We had spent hours helping to clear a tunnel down to the main burial chamber, all the while scaring ourselves silly with talk of mummies, curses, and spells, all of the improbable things that could be waiting for us in the middle of the pyramid. Instead, what we found were these vases, or jars, canopic to be exact. They were just lying there on the ground."

Susan raised a brow. She wasn't sure, but she had read somewhere that Canopic Jars were used in the burial rituals for the Egyptian dead. For some reason, the thought of anyone going into someone's final resting place and taking something potentially important to them in life seemed wrong. 

"There were three of them, one for each of us, and so plain the man in charge let us take them." Smythe said, smiling at the memory. Williams had finished his meal and quickly ordered another, before asking for more of Higgin's story.

"And the sandstorm?" he prompted. Before, he had seemed removed, almost fake in his interactions with others, but now Susan was beginning to see a bit of the real Williams, and it seemed he had a thirst for travel.

She still didn't trust him. 

"The sandstorm." Higgins said and shook his head. "Always listen to the warnings of your guides when in foreign lands," he warned Susan and Williams. "Or you may not be as lucky as the three of us were that day."

Susan raised a brow, and suddenly caught sight Agent Carter staring at her table out of the corner of her eye. Agent Carter had the same look on her face that she had at the train station.

Susan remembered only bits and pieces of that day, she tried not to think of it, had filed it away into the same corner of her mind that she had her memories of Narnia. 

Even seeing her at the train station earlier that day had not jogged her memory, though to be fair she had other matters on her mind and wasn't really paying attention to what was going on around her. And if she was being honest with herself, Susan had spent the last month like that, focusing only on the small things and nothing else. But seeing Agent Carter in the hallway, and after the week she had had, something in her memory was knocked loose and Susan remembered. 

Agent Carter had been collecting statements from anyone who had had someone on the train, Susan had been one the first on the scene, as the hospital she worked at had been closest to the station.

Agent Carter ha questioned her twenty-four hours after the crash, and neither woman looked their best. Susan remembered the faded red of Agent Carter's lipstick, and maybe one or two of questions, she was so tired and heartsick. 

But she remembered her expression clear as day, one that promised pain behind a mask of duty, and now she was directing it at Susan's table. 

 

"The main excavation group leaves and there we were, insisting we can sleep the night through at the pyramid, all because of a silly dare and the hopes making the discovery of the century."

Susan snapped back to the present, Smythe was talking about Egypt and Susan turned her attention to him. She needed to focus, and this place was bringing up far too many memories.

"Instead, a sandstorm hits, and since neither of you too has been to anything even resembling a true desert, these storms will either suffocate you to death or flay the skin from your bones. And we thought we could make it back to the city if we just hurried and shielded our eyes." Smythe and Higgins both snorted at their past arrogance. They were both red from the wine, and more relaxed. An onslaught of propaganda papers dance across her mind, " _Loose lips sink ships!"_ the slogans all said. Well, that was certainly true tonight.

"So we all leave the safety of the pyramid, and immediately lost track of one another. If it hadn't been for Digory," Higgins said and then fell silent. He inhaled sharply and continued.

"He somehow managed to lead us back to the pyramid tunnels, and used what little water we had to wash the sand from our eyes and mouths." He shivered an couched slightly, as if he was back in that desert again, choking on sand.

"So we waited out that storm,'' Higgins said once he had recovered. "Trying to keep warm, the desert at night is near freezing, and to keep our minds busy. That is when I realized the jars we had found were no ordinary things. I had been rubbing off the dirt to amuse myself, when I realized the lid resembled the head of a monkey, or that of a baboon to be precise."

Smythe chuckled and nodded. "Be began to clean off the other jars and found that they were made from lapis, and had the most beautiful writing scrawled across the fronts, And the lids, each more bizarre than the last. The one I claimed bore the head of a falcon."

Susan laughed. "And the Professor took the one with the Jackal head. Every time he passed it, he would chuckle lightly. Now I know why."

Higgins chuckled and sighed. "We kept those jars for ourselves, if we had shown them to the rest of the dig team, they would had taken them for themselves. That is the story of the sandstorm, the crocodiles will have to wait." With that, he stood and stretched. Susan glanced up at the clock and realized it was after nine. Smythe nodded and rose as well, and the rest of the table followed suit. 

"Goodnight gentlemen," Susan said and extended her hand to each man. "And thank you, both of you for sharing your memories of the Professor, I will treasure them alongside my own."

Susan smiled her best smile and both Smythe and Higgins turned a slightly deeper shade of red. 

"The pleasure was all mine," Smythe said. "In my old age, I find no greater joy than when I share a good meal with friends and laugh at the stories we tell, especially in these austere times."

Everyone nodded, and left the dining room together. Susan was grateful that her room was on the second floor, she was exhausted an if didn't think she could smile or act anymore that night.

When she had been escorted to her room, Susan locked the door behind and without even turning on the lights, collapsed on the bed.

 

Between what had happened that morning, and later in the hall way with Agent Carter and then the inner itself, Susan had only enough energy too kick off her shoes, before falling asleep.

 

Her dreams were strange that night. Susan was in the Golden Wood again, chasing after a stag with Peter, Edmund, and Lucy by her side. She could never forget this day, the day they ha left Narnia after ruling their for over fifteen years.

Susan halted her horse and tried to turn back, but Peter insisted on chasing down the stag. She shook her head and tried to call after them, but her voice was gone. Again and again, she tried to warn her siblings about what would happen if they followed the stag, but they could not hear her. Susan remained rooted to the spot, unable to move as they all moved out of her sight.

The woods suddenly transformed and Susan found herself at the train station, watching from the distance. She screamed at them to move, but Polly and Jill, who had suddenly appeared, sneared at her, and turned away. Susan didn't care, she kept screaming as the train came towards them, it's whistle drowning everything out. There was the sound of metal screaming as it rubbed against metal, and then all was dark.

 

 


End file.
